by Sarah Morgan
She hit him with her smile and Walter stepped back, dazzled.
Having been on the receiving end of that smile, Jackson felt sympathy for his grandfather.
He watched as she lifted the ax. Watched as that blond hair swung and a look of determination spread across her face.
Apart from that first glance, she hadn’t looked at him.
“I’m going to find a way to chop logs in my office. That way every time a client with no story whatsoever tells me he wants to be on the front page of the New York Times, I can chop a log instead of banging my head against a wall.” She split the log and her eyes sparkled. “You do this whenever you’re stressed?”
“Every damn day.” Walter glanced at his grandson. “Never any shortage of firewood around here. Isn’t that right, Jackson?”
“Gramps—”
Walter grunted. “You did the right thing. People need to pull their weight. Élise cooks like an angel. She was a find, that’s for sure.”
It was the first word of praise his grandfather had given him. The first time he’d shown any indication that any of the changes Jackson had made were making a difference.
“I didn’t expect Darren to leave.”
“Things happen. You dealt with it. That’s all you can do in life. Things are changing around here. If people can’t change along with us, they’d be happier somewhere else. It’s important to keep these logs dry.” He spoke to Kayla. “We deliver dry logs to the cabins every day. Sure, only a couple of them are occupied right now, but I’m sure that’ll change now you’re here. Think you can get us on the front page of the New York Times?” His eyes twinkled and Kayla grinned back at him.
“Doubtful. You’re hot, Walter, but even you’re not hot enough for the front page. But I can get you in other places. If I arrange for a journalist to interview you, do you promise not to eat him in one mouthful?”
Walter rested his foot on the log. “I’m not allowed to be myself?”
“I want you to be yourself. I’m relying on it.”
He put the ax down. “Just tell me who you want me to talk to.”
“I’ll make some calls.”
Jackson frowned. “This close to Christmas?”
“There are people still working, and some of them are looking for stories that don’t include suggestions for cooking turkey or tips on dieting. I’ll get right onto it.” She zipped up her jacket, still not looking at him.
“I’m taking you skiing this morning. We’re meeting up with Tyler and Jess. Your gear is in the back of my car.”
“These are two people whose idea of fun is to bomb down a sheer vertical cliff. I’m sure they’re just dying to spend time on a flat slope with someone who can’t stay upright for more than five seconds.” Her voice was falsely bright. “I’m glad they’re bonding, but I need to get back to the cabin and work. I’m starting to get a clear picture of how we can sell Snow Crystal to the press and the public.”
He was starting to get a clear picture of the reason she blocked people out of her life. “You can tell me about it as we drive.” He took her arm. “Car’s parked just over there. See you later, Gramps.”
“I guess you will.” Walter gave them both a long look but Jackson kept walking. Fortunately Kayla did, too, presumably because she didn’t want a scene.
“I had a frank discussion with your grandfather.”
“Good. A frank discussion is definitely needed. And not just between you and my grandfather.” He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Jackson—”
“Get in the car, Kayla.” They were the same words he’d spoken to her a few nights earlier when she’d fled from the meeting, only this time he understood more about why she’d fled. He hoped she wasn’t going to argue, because he was ready to flatten her to the side of his SUV and kiss her until she stopped arguing, which would give Walter something to stare at other than his log pile.
“You employed me to do a job.”
“I’m not stopping you doing that job. I’d like an update, and I’d like that update with strong coffee to make up for the amount we didn’t sleep last night. Right now we’re going to use this private time to have that conversation you’ve been avoiding.”
She climbed into the car. “I had things to do this morning.”
“Things that required you to creep out like a burglar?”
“I was trying not to wake you.”
“Yeah, I got that part. Question is, why? Am I that scary?”
“I was busy. I spoke to your mother. I had a conversation with Élise and Brenna. I had a lovely chat with Walter.” She fastened her seat belt. “That was what we agreed, wasn’t it? That I’d talk to people?”
“Seems you’ve talked to just about everyone except me so far today.”
She took a deep breath. “It was one night, Jackson. Just one night.”
“In that case you owe me a couple of hours because you walked out before it was finished.” He waited for her to come back with a smart reply.
What she did was turn the conversation back to work.
“I’ve decided to go for some feature placements and national TV. People like a human story.”
He reined in frustration. “Human story?”
“You gave up your own dream to come home and save the family business.”
Tension rippled through him. “You make it sound like some sort of damn sacrifice.”
“Would you have come home and run this place if your father were still here?”
“He isn’t, so it isn’t a question that needs answering.” The snap in his voice was directed at himself rather than her, but she had no way of knowing that. He was about to apologize when he felt the gentle touch of her fingers on his thigh.
Remembering how those fingers had felt wrapped around a certain part of him, Jackson almost drove off the road.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m tired and cranky and right now I don’t want to talk about this place.” He tried to focus on the road and not the touch of her hand. “And I’m not sure Walter should be talking to journalists. I don’t want the world to know he doesn’t want me here.”
“He wants you here. I spent an hour with him this morning. You’re all he talks about and he talks with love and pride.”
“Family loyalty. He’s not going to say anything different to—”
“To an outsider. It’s fine...you can say it. And he’s proud of you, Jackson. You have no idea how lucky you are to have that.” She withdrew her hand and he had to stop himself from grabbing it. Instead he kept both hands on the wheel and steered the vehicle into the parking area at the foot of the chairlift.
“I should have come home sooner.” Guilt gnawed at him, aching under his ribs. “Should have asked some questions. My father was a lousy businessman. He considered a day that wasn’t spent outdoors trying to break his speed record flying downhill a day wasted.”
“He sounds like Tyler.”
“There are similarities, but Tyler loves Snow Crystal. To Dad it was a boulder around his neck stopping him doing the things he wanted to do.” He wondered why they were talking about this when all he wanted to do was talk about the night before.
He wondered how she could block it out so easily.
And then he saw her fingers. She was clenching them in her lap, her knuckles white, and he knew she wasn’t finding it easy, either.
“I’ve been thinking that we should invite some of the top international ski journalists for a weekend.”
He ought to be interested. He should be listening to her words, not looking at her mouth. “We?”
“You.” She leaned forward to remove her boots. “I’ll be in New York, obviously.”
He swore under his breath. “Look at me, Kayla.”
“I think it would be an excellent way of getting coverage and—”
“Look at me.”
“I’m just—”
/>
“You’re just trying to pretend last night never happened, but I’m not going to let you do that.”
Color streaked across her cheekbones but she kept her eyes down. “It happened, but now it’s done.”
“No, it’s not.”
She stilled and took several breaths. “You are already the longest relationship I’ve ever had, Jackson.”
“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t mean you have to run.” It was what she’d done after her parents had split up. It broke his heart to think of her shivering and alone on Christmas night.
He thought about what she’d told him about her life. Adding those pieces to the other bits she’d revealed over the time they’d been together had enabled him to build a picture in his head and it didn’t make happy viewing.
She adjusted her socks. “I’m not running.”
“I woke up alone.”
“I took Maple back to your mother.”
“At seven in the morning?” He slid his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Am I that scary?”
“I’m not scared.”
“Sweetheart, you’re so scared intruder alarms go off in your head when someone comes close. There are better ways to live your life.”
“This way works for me.”
Exasperation flashed through him. She was more stubborn than Walter. “Don’t trust, don’t get hurt—is that right?”
“Maybe it is, but what’s wrong with that? I’m only here for a few days. This can’t be—anything.”
“So we can either play it safe and boring, or we can make those few days count.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I know which I want.”
“Jackson—”
“I don’t remember you checking your emails, Kayla.” He could see a tiny pulse beating in her throat.
“Enough. You need to back off.”
“I’m not good at backing off. That’s why I’m still at Snow Crystal.”
But he understood why she would think that way. Her most important relationships had proved as unstable and unreliable as the snowpack on a steep slope. One moment she’d been standing on what had felt like a solid surface and the next that surface had gone, sweeping her off the mountain in an avalanche of pain that had left her living in a world where nothing felt secure.
He tried to imagine how it must feel to know your parents had chosen a different life. A life that didn’t include the child they’d made.
Family life could be messy—he knew that. Tyler’s experience with Janet Carpenter had been harsh, and the O’Neils certainly weren’t perfect. Much of the time they drove him half-crazy, but they were his family and they were there. Yes, there were arguments. Big, door-slamming arguments. Hell, in Tyler’s case the arguments had driven him from Snow Crystal for a while. And Sean wasn’t exactly rushing home, either, but no one in the O’Neil family had ever doubted they were loved. The arguments, the irritations, the frustrations all added up to a package he couldn’t imagine living without.
And one thing he knew for sure—no one in his family would have spent Christmas night at a police station.
He’d left home because he’d craved independence. He’d wanted, needed, to prove himself. But he’d always known he could return at any point. He’d known they had his back and that if life had buried him in an avalanche, they’d be right there digging him out. And he would have done the same for any one of them, which was why he was here now.
Kayla had never had that support from anyone.
She’d had only herself to rely on, with no support from the sidelines. For her, security came from not taking risks in her personal life.
He took it as a positive sign that her guard was up. It meant she felt threatened. And feeling threatened meant she cared.
Presumably she’d work that out for herself if she hadn’t already.
Jackson decided to let that kick around in her brain for a while.
“I’m glad we had this talk because now we both know where we stand. Let’s go and break the news to Tyler you want him to be a media star.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOW WE BOTH know where we stand.
Kayla stamped her feet into her skis and zipped up her jacket. She had no idea where she stood. She’d made it clear she wanted him to back off, and he’d made it clear he had no intention of doing that. Part of her wanted to argue further, but she didn’t want to prolong a conversation she found terrifying.
He’d accused her of running away, but that wasn’t what she did. True, she avoided emotional entanglements, but that was a lifestyle choice. It had nothing to do with running and yet somehow he’d made her feel like a coward.
“Remember what I taught you—” Jackson removed his gloves and bent to tighten her boots.
She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself and was immediately transported back to the night before. She’d explored the dip and curve of those muscles with her fingers and mouth. She knew the feel of his skin and the power of his body.
He straightened, his gaze holding hers.
Around them skiers whizzed past, their jackets a swirling kaleidoscope of bright color against a background of white, but all she saw was the blue of Jackson’s eyes.
Her mouth was dry, her fingertips frozen. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. It’s an easy run and I’ll be right next to you.”
“I wasn’t talking about the skiing.”
“I know.” His voice was gentle. “But you need to stop panicking and have some fun. Live a little, Kayla.”
“I like the way I live. Is it so wrong to enjoy work?”
“No. But when work becomes something you use to prevent you facing the things that scare you—that’s not good.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying. And I know that when you’re scared, the best thing to do is throw yourself into whatever it is that scares you. Just do it. Don’t think about what could go wrong. That’s a surefire way of never doing anything in life.”
“It’s a surefire way of getting hurt.”
“I’m still not talking about skiing.” He covered her lips with his fingers. “Stop assuming something bad will happen.”
She tried to ignore the feel of his fingers on her lips. “Maybe I’ll fall.”
“Maybe you won’t.” He stared deep into her eyes, and there was humor there and something much, much more serious.
She was definitely falling. Tumbling headlong into something she’d avoided all her life. “Maybe I’ll break a leg.” Or something more important, like a heart.
“Maybe you’ll have the most fun you’ve ever had.” His voice soft, he dragged his thumb slowly over her mouth. “And maybe you’ll want to do it again and again.”
Her heart raced away faster than a downhill skier going for gold.
She tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore him. “I’m too old to learn to ski.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
His mouth flickered at the corners. “Your age is not getting in the way.” He pulled on his gloves. “The only thing getting in the way is your mind.”
“There is nothing wrong with my mind. I like my mind.”
“I like your mind, too. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like it to shut up once in a while. Now follow me and turn when I turn. That way you won’t gain too much speed.”
She watched him with a mixture of frustration and fascination thinking that, with the exception of Walter, she’d never met anyone more stubborn. Or maybe Jackson wasn’t stubborn. Maybe he just knew what he wanted.
She shivered. Was that her?
He was right about one thing. Her mind did get in the way. It made her pick the safe route. But was that so wrong? Was it wrong to protect yourself...or sensible?
As he moved to one side, sure and confident on his skis, she had her first proper view of the slope.
“Oh, God, that’s steep! Now I understand why you were giving me the talk about facing my
fear.” Terrified, she dug her poles and skis into the slope. “The only way I’m going down that is in an ambulance.”
“There is no way to get an ambulance up here.” He was laughing. “If you fall and you’re injured, you’ll be pulled down on a toboggan by the ski patrol. It’s not the most comfortable of rides.”
“Thank you for the motivational speech.” The slope fell away beneath her, the smooth groomed surface of the snow sparkling in the bright winter sunshine. The contrast of snowy mountains against blue sky would have taken her breath away if she hadn’t already been holding it in sheer terror.
Far below, through the veil of trees, she could see the village nestling in the valley and to the right the lake and the Snow Crystal cabins. “It’s comforting to know that if I fall I might just land straight in my bed.”
Maddeningly relaxed, he slid away from her. “Ski, Kayla.”
“Ski, Kayla,” she muttered under her breath. “Can I climb back up to the top? I’ll sacrifice my nails if that’s what it takes to get me back up to the lift.”
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Trust your skis. And me.”
He had no idea what he was asking.
“I’m not big on trust.”
But he was.
He was a man who trusted family bonds to hold. She’d only ever seen them snap. “We’re incompatible.”
“Ski, Kayla, or I’ll carry you down, and that will make you dizzy.”
She was already dizzy, but she let the skis glide, tentatively at first, heard a soft rushing sound and felt the cold air on her cheeks. Her stomach knotted in terror and then she saw him turn, still watching her over his shoulder. She faltered, postponing the moment when she’d have to commit to going straight down the fall line. And then she saw a little girl no more than four years old careering down the mountain with her daddy and remembered what Jackson had said about her mind being the only thing getting in her way.
Holding her breath, she turned, ignoring the instinct that told her she was committing suicide. For a split second her speed increased, and she forced herself to concentrate, forced herself to remember what he’d told her about her weight and the edges of her skis and then she was turning and traversing the slope behind him.
